


Just kneel.

by this_is_a_love_story (diner_drama)



Series: Fleabag Fluff [3]
Category: Fleabag (TV)
Genre: D/s, F/M, PWP, Quaker meeting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 07:54:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19102894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diner_drama/pseuds/this_is_a_love_story
Summary: It all starts perfectly innocently.They're at the Friends' Meeting House for an hour of "silently experiencing the light within" and she really, really meant to behave this time. She sent him to the other side of the room so they won't giggle at each other and gave him his bible to hold like a security blanket.The thing is, in a quiet room it's easy to get bored, and there's only so many times you can read the information on the "white poppies for peace" collection box before your mind begins to wander. You can think about your tax returns, whether you need to buy a new toaster, your next haircut... or, you can think about how you spent yesterday evening being fucked into the mattress by the hunk of prime ecumenical beef sitting across the room.





	Just kneel.

**Author's Note:**

> "We write to wank to Fleabag twice - in the moment and in retrospect" - Anaïs Nin, probably.

It all starts perfectly innocently. 

They're at the Friends' Meeting House for an hour of "silently experiencing the light within" and she really, really meant to behave this time. She sent him to the other side of the room so they won't giggle at each other and gave him his bible to hold like a security blanket. 

The thing is, in a quiet room it's easy to get bored, and there's only so many times you can read the information on the "white poppies for peace" collection box before your mind begins to wander. You can think about your tax returns, whether you need to buy a new toaster, your next haircut... or, you can think about how you spent yesterday evening being fucked into the mattress by the hunk of prime ecumenical beef sitting across the room. 

What can she say? It was _memorable_. 

She grips the seat of her chair very tightly, holding herself down just in case the spirit moves her to say something embarrassing, but she can't stop herself from squirming, just a little bit, as she remembers raking her nails over the rippling muscles of his back. She would have gotten away with it too, if her chair wasn't approximately 100 years old and liable to give out an earsplitting squeak every time she shifts even slightly. 

At the first squeal of ancient wood, he looks up and directly at her, eyes narrowed. This does not help at all, as it reminds her of the way he winced when she gave the side of his neck a little bite as he first pushed into her, and she can't help but rub her thighs together a little bit at the memory. This time the chair stays mercifully silent, but she's lulled into a false sense of security and relaxes a little, leaning back into her seat, which creates a different but equally loud squeaking sound. She sneaks a glance at him and he's got his eyes tightly shut, holding onto his bible like a talisman against her wicked ways. 

She manages to keep it together for another ten minutes or so, but then she accidentally catches sight of the love bite on her thigh and she lets out a little huff of air that wouldn't be incriminating to anyone unless they happen to know the noises she makes whens he's turned on. Running his finger up and down the spine of the book distractedly, he shoots her a dark look, and from the way his pupils dilate when she bites her lip, she knows she's in trouble. 

It takes all of three seconds after they get out of the room for him to be crowding her against the wall in a deserted corridor, her fingers tangling in his short hair as they kiss hungrily, his hands everywhere, pushing up under her skirt, grabbing her tits, cradling her face. His thigh is pushed between her legs and she grinds onto him, making little whimpering sounds at the back of her throat. 

They stumble home somehow, and he pushes her up against her front door and kisses her thoroughly, pinning her wrists between their chests as he licks into her mouth. She moans against his lips, wantonly rubbing herself against him and writhing in his grip. 

"Fuck, look at you," he says, scanning up and down her body with dark eyes. "So fucking gorgeous, so eager for me." 

She's not ashamed to admit that she whimpers. 

He pushes his free hand against the soaked fabric of her knickers and grinds his palm into her clit. "So fucking wet," he growls into her ear, hot breath on her sensitive skin. "This is what you were thinking about, wasn't it? Sitting there in public imagining me touching you. Staying silent while your cunt was dripping, thinking about my cock." 

"Is that a problem?" 

"Oh, fuck no." 

Releasing her wrists, he grabs her hips and lifts her up effortlessly so she can wrap her legs around his waist and grab both sides of his face, pulling him in for another kiss. He carries her into the bedroom, never breaking away from her lips until he's got her pressed up against the wall and he's thrusting shallowly against her, desperate for some friction against his cock through his trousers. Biting hard at her neck, he winds a hand between their bodies to press at her throbbing clit through her wet underwear and she _whines_ , high and needy, and presses against him. 

"God, you're a walking fucking temptation," he groans. "What the fuck am I supposed to do with you?" 

"I think you know exactly what to do with me." 

Smirking, he pulls away, letting her down onto the floor, and takes a step backwards, eyes hardening into the steely gaze she loved so much. 

"Kneel," he says simply, his voice soft and commanding, and she drops to her knees before she had time to think about it. She looks up at him, her swollen red lips parted and pupils blown, eyes already looking a little glassy as her brain begins to fill with the blissful white noise that falls whenever he takes control. 

She hears the clink of his belt buckle and her breath hitches a little in her throat. She's ready for him to fuck her mouth, to gag her, to throw her over his knee and beat her with it until she's screaming. _Anything_. 

Instead, he touches her head gently, fondly stroking her dark curls, then crouches down and uses the belt to bind her wrists together behind her back, immobilising her arms. She lets out a breath and lets herself relax further, falling deeper into a feeling of total release and trust. When the weight of making her own decisions is taken away from her, the noise and chattering and commentary in her brain shuts off for a little while and the silence lets her concentrate just on the pleasure she's feeling. 

She knows that having her at his mercy like this, her body completely under his control, following his every command, does the same for him. He falls into the kind of peace usually only found through prayer (or half a bottle of Jameson's). 

When he stands up again she sneaks a look at his face and sees the same fucked-out look that she knows is on her own face. He strokes a thumb over her bottom lip and she sucks it into her mouth, tonguing the pad and moaning around it. 

"Your mouth was made for sucking cock, did you know that? Those red fucking lips, so wicked." 

Unable to resist, she leans forwards and mouths at the outline of his cock through his trousers. He grabs her hair roughly and pulls her away, tilting her head backwards to look up at him. 

"You want it, don't you? My cock down your throat so you can choke and drool on it." 

"Yes." She looks up at him through her eyelashes, insolent. 

His mouth twists into a playfully cruel smile. "Do you think you've earned it?" 

She tilts her head and crinkles her nose. "Well..." 

"You've been nothing but fucking trouble today, I could just leave you here like this." To drive his point home, he slides one finger into her underwear to drag along her dripping slit. "All tied up and so wet for me. Make you wait. Gag you so you can't even beg for my cock." 

She whimpers. He grins. 

"Look at you," he whispers, kissing her softly, tormenting her with feather-light touches. "A little fucking mess." She has to admit that he has a point. She's moaning wantonly at every touch, leaning into his hands, into his lips, skin flushed and clothes dishevelled. 

Slowly, he unbuttons the front of her dress, kissing each inch of revealed skin until he reaches a nipple, giving it one teasing suck, before slipping the dress down her shoulders, pinning her bound arms even more firmly behind her and leaving her chest exposed. 

"Beautiful," he breathes. She whines a little, the cold air making her nipples harden almost painfully, and he responds with another maddeningly gentle, long kiss. 

He finally, finally shows her some mercy, and manhandles her to her feet, pushing her to sit on the edge of the bed. Kneeling between her legs, he licks her, once, through the sodden cotton of her knickers, making her moan louder, then pulls them down and discards them somewhere over his shoulder. He strokes down the creases of her hips reverently, before burying his face between her thighs and licking one long stripe over her aching clit. 

She arches her back off the bed and tries to push closer but his firm hands on her hips keep her still as he circles his tongue, lapping firmly at her sensitive clit in a rhythm that's just slow enough to be teasing and just fast enough that she can't catch her breath. A litany of curses and encouragement slip from her lips. 

"Oh fuck fuck, yes, yes, right there, fucking yes, left a bit, _oh Christ, yes_ ," she babbles incoherently at the top of his head. His rhythm doesn't falter as he slides first one, then two fingers into her slick, dripping cunt, and crooks them upwards, dragging over her g-spot in tandem with his licks. 

"Fuck," she whines, feeling her muscles start to tense with her approaching orgasm, "I'm so fucking close." In response, he hums and sucks on her clit a little, then picks up the pace and slides a third finger inside her. The feeling of being so _full_ mixed with the exquisite pressure of his tongue beating against her clit pushes her over the edge, and she comes around his fingers with a broken gasp. 

He eats her out through her orgasm while she cries out and twitches against him, then rises to cup her face with his clean hand and kiss her gently, as though he hadn't just completely taken her apart with his fingers and tongue. She can taste herself on him, sharp and sweet. 

"I'm not done with you yet," he murmurs. 

"I should fucking hope not," she says against his lips. 

Gripping her by the back of the neck, he turns her around and pushes her face down firmly into the mattress, and arranges her knees under her so that her arse is up in the air. One hand still tangled in her hair, he uses his free hand to open the bedside table drawer and grope inside it. 

"Aren't condoms a sin, Father?" she teases. 

He shrugs. "In for a penny." They grin at each other like idiots for a second before he pulls her up for one more searing kiss as she struggles to balance on her knees. 

Without warning, he pulls her back down and thrusts his thick, hard cock into her mouth ( _when did he take his trousers off?_ , she would be wondering, if her brain wasn't otherwise occupied). 

It hits the back of her throat and she moans around it, eliciting a pleased " _Fuck_ " from above her. He fucks into her mouth, not letting up when she gags a little. She's gasping for breath every time he pulls out, a trail of spit leaking from her red, swollen lips. 

"So fucking good, love using your mouth like this, you're _so_ fucking good at this, _fuck_ ," he chants, a benediction, as he stuffs his throbbing cock over and over into her willing mouth. 

Pulling on her hair again, he pulls her face back away from him. She keeps trying to chase his cock with her mouth, drooling, panting, and shameless. 

"Oh, no no no," he says, amused, tilting her chin up. "Don't you get greedy." 

Absently, she licks her lips as he rolls the condom over himself, watching him intently. Moving behind her, he slaps her arse and grabs a handful of the taut flesh, spreading her cheeks. 

"Tell me what you want," he says, soft and commanding, pressing up against her and rolling his hips a little. 

"Please, please," she manages. 

"Please what?" 

"Please fuck my tight little whore cunt," she says in a rush, then adds, "Father," for good measure. 

This was the correct thing to say. 

Growling, he slams into her in one thrust, holding her by the hips with a bruising grip. She can feel her slick cunt pulsing around him as he slides effortlessly inside her. He sets a merciless rhythm straight away, the force of his thrusts pushing her face into the bed as she surrenders herself to the sensation of being pounded from behind, the unforgiving leather of his belt around her arms, the intensity of his grip. 

He reaches forward to grab her hair by the roots and use it as leverage to pull her back onto him, to push himself even deeper inside her. She's given up on actual words at this point and is just letting out guttural moans while he's whispering _filthy_ things into her ear as he slams in and out of her, telling her how pretty she looks, tied up and begging to be fucked, how tight she feels, how wet she is. 

Just as her legs are starting to shake with the exertion of holding herself up, he grunts out a few more curses and, breathing heavily with exertion, pulls out of her and flips her over onto her back. They're both glistening with sweat, her clothes are dishevelled, and they both look completely debauched, but he still takes a moment to admire her body, drinking in the sight of her tits as though she were the Venus de Milo, before pulling her up so that she's resting on his thighs and pushing back into her. He picks her up by the hips like a rag doll, controlling her movements effortlessly as he slams across her g-spot with every thrust, thumb strumming lightly across her clit with just enough pressure to be frustrating. She moans brokenly and he readjusts his grip to start rubbing her in earnest, two fingers circling over her clit firmly, in perfect harmony with his thrusts. The feeling is overwhelming and it only takes a few more thrusts until she's coming, panting and clenching around his cock. That's enough to tip him over the edge and soon he's crying out, spilling deep inside her. 

He still has enough presence of mind to hold onto the base of the condom as he pulls out, tying it in a neat knot and throwing it in the bin, before he collapses onto her with a wrecked sigh. If she could move or think she'd tell him that he weighed a ton and to get the fuck off of her, but she can't, so she just enjoys the warm presence of his body and tries to catch her breath. 

He shakes his head after a moment, waking himself up, then unties her and automatically rubs her shoulders and wrists, warding off the pain she'd probably be able to feel if she wasn't off her tits on endorphins. 

"Oof!" he exhales, collapsing next to her, face down into the pillow. "Fuck me." 

"Just did." 

"Are you alright?" He gives her a once-over, checking for bruises and scrapes. "Nothing hurt?" 

"Just my reputation. Letting a man into my bedroom without serenading me with romantic sonnets first? The neighbours will talk." 

"I already _gave_ you a book of love poems." 

"That was the fucking _Bible_." 

They giggle at each other and she's already floating, adrift on a sea of warm contentment, so she lets the tide take her away and they fall asleep together in a sticky, undignified tangle of limbs.


End file.
